Keeper of My Soul
by egyouppt
Summary: "Are you happy?" she asks him. He doesn't know what makes her wonder that, but he's never been happier. He makes it his mission to prove that to her.


**A/N: **_random one shot that is fluffy and not angsty. apparently i'm capable of that :P anyway, i'd appreciate your feedback and I hope you enjoy! :D_

disclaimer: i don't own or profit from glee. unfortunately.

* * *

><p>"Are you happy?" she asks.<p>

"Mmmm?" He looks over at her, smiling lazily. He hadn't had classes Friday, so he'd driven up to New York for the weekend to visit Rachel. It had only been just under a month since he'd seen her over spring break, but it didn't matter. Pretty much any time away from her is too much time away from her, he thinks now.

They're lying in the grass at Central Park on the quilt she'd made him two Christmases ago. He's on his stomach, facing her, as he absently twirls some of her hair in his fingers. She's looking at him with those wide, soulful eyes, her face turned towards his as she turns on her side.

"Right now," she whispers. "Are you happy?"

"I'm great, Rach," he whispers back.

She sighs. "That's not what I'm asking. Are you _happy_?"

Her lips do that pouty thing and he really wants to kiss her, but he knows if he does, she'll just think it means that he's not and is trying to distract her. "Rachel," he murmurs, scooting closer to her. He takes her hand and brushes his lips over her knuckles. "Babe, of course I'm happy. I mean, not just 'cause we had a boatload of really awesome sex before we came here." He tugs at her hand and pulls her half on top of him as he rolls over, looking up at her face. "I _love _you. And I know you love me too." He shrugs a little. "That makes me happy, like, permanently."

She smiles a little, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes, and he wonders what he has to do to make her really believe him. See, he knows she knows he loves her; he knows she doesn't doubt that. But it worries him that she still has these insecurities sometimes, especially because he knows something probably happened to set them off.

Like, this one time during their freshmen year of college, after they'd only really been apart for about two months (and this was all _after_they'd patched up their relationship mid-senior year of high school) she'd called him crying, and asked if what he'd said about caring for her even if her voice were gone was really true. He hadn't known what she was talking about, but he'd told her of course it was true. He'd had to gently goad her into telling him what it was that happened.

Apparently someone in one of her theatre classes freaked her out when she mentioned that she had to get her tonsils taken out in a few months. The jackass had said he hoped she was able to keep her voice only because if she didn't, no one would care about her and it would make her even more unbearable to be around. The way Finn had seen it, the dickwad was lucky he hadn't been there to punch his face in.

He'd spent three hours on the phone trying to convince her that he really _would_still love her no matter what. Truthfully, he'd even loved her those dreary months they were apart in high school and he'd tried not to. He likes to think now that he'd done a good job of convincing her. He'd stayed with her four weekends in a row after the surgery (even though it was kinda unnecessary in a technical sorta way, but whatever) and spent the days feeding her applesauce and reading Shakespeare (which was sort of a fail, as he couldn't understand what most of the words meant, but he was sure Rachel just liked the different voices he used for Othello and Iago and Desdemona and stuff, but hey, it all worked out in the end, right).

So as he lays with her now, he wonders what it will take this time. Since a phone call and another chat with Sean Fretthold and some really (oh God _really_) hot phone sex aren't going to do the trick.

He makes it his mission for the weekend.

* * *

><p>"You can't play this game with two people, Finn."<p>

He shrugs easily, opening the top of the Clue box. "Sure you can."

She gives him this look like she's questioning his sanity, but not in like a _real_way, so it's just sort of adorable instead of annoying or hurtful or something. He'll show her. Clue has always been his favorite board game and it started raining barely an hour after their lazing about in the park earlier this afternoon. And instead of spenind money (that honestly, he really doesn't have) they'd decided to go back to her small apartment.

He forks out some of his general Tso's (because really, like he's coordinated enough to use chop sticks) and looks at her. "If we just take some of the cards out each category, it'll be sort of like three people are playing." He frowns. "And I guess lying about what cards they have." He takes another bite of chicken, begrudgingly accepting the fate that Clue is not a game to be played by two people. He's about to think that the best things always involve more than two people, but one, he doesn't think he'd enjoy having sex with an extra person, and he can't actually think of an example besides Clue anyway. So whatever.

But she's grinning at him, and that makes him feel a little better, and she leans over to give him a noisy kiss, apparently not even caring that the sauce he has on his lips has touched chicken. "On second thought," he says against her lips, "there _are_things the two of us could do that would be even better than playing Clue."

But she only giggles and pulls away. As a consolation prize, he guesses, she does at least move to sit in his lap. "We could always make up our own game of Clue you know," she suggests.

He lifts his feet up onto her coffee table, his lips skimming her neck. "Yeah?"

She shivers a little, then nods. "Mmm, yeah. For example, you remember my roommate my sophomore year, right?"

"The one with the partly shaved head and the plugs you could fit your fist through?"

"That's the one."

"Yeah," he says grinning. "I remember her." She's kinda hard to forget, actually. The first time Finn had met her, the girl, Lacey her name was (completely _not_fitting, by the way) had glared so hard at him, he was pretty sure he had holes that were smoking through his shirt. He remembers she'd had a lot of weird, pornographic anime posters on her side of the room that always made Rachel uncomfortable, and en extreme distaste for anything vaguely mainstream.

"Well," Rachel chirps. "If she were going to kill anyone, who would it be, where would it occur, and what would be her weapon of choice?"

He laughs because only Rachel would think of something like this and it warms his heart that he's managed to find and keep such a special, original girl. "Uhh, she'd probably kill Lady Gaga in Times Square with, umm…" He snaps his fingers when it comes to him. "That weird Japanese sword thingy she kept hanging above her desk!"

She turns around, staring at him intensely, and he feels his face heat up. "Was I…wrong?" he asks sheepishly

But she just gives him this really huge smile and says excitedly, "I was thinking _literally_the exact same thing! Well, except I knew the sword was called a katana." She kisses him again, this time her hands tugging on his hair and he thinks he's about to get lucky for the fifth time today so far. And well, it's awesome as hell, frankly.

"Finn," she whispers near his ear as his fingers slide down her back and slip under her shirt.

"Mmmm." He traces the contours of the small of her back with his hands as her lips descend from just behind his ear to the pulse in his throat.

He groans when her hips shift into his. "Are you happy?" she murmurs, looking at him in _that_ way again, the way that's all vulnerable and worrying. And he thinks asking him if he's happy when she's straddling his lap and sucking at his collarbone is probably the wrong time to ask that. Like, he _is_, he really is. In general and in this moment specifically, but it's so hard to be _coherent_when she's doing that.

"Rach," he says seriously, pulling away a little. "_Yes._I'm happy, I really am."

"Okay," she whispers. Again, he doesn't know if she totally believes him, but he decides worshipping her body for the next hour should be a good way to start, right?

And from all the noises she makes throughout, he's pretty sure he's getting there.

* * *

><p>He shifts in her bed as the sun streams through the window. He's glad it's spring 'cause he likes warm weather and stuff, but the fact that it gets light out at like eight in the morning kinda sucks 'cause he's pretty sure eight am is too early to even <em>exist.<em>He does his best not to wake Rachel up, since she rarely ever sleeps in and he likes when she does. And it's not like he minds having her sleeping form curled up against him, her breath soft on his chest.

He misses her while they're apart. Like, it seems obvious, yeah. But it's still true. It's not _just_ the sex he misses, to be clear (though he does miss it, and he ends up missing it even more after weekends like this—which is why so much of their summers the past three years have been spent together and naked). Sometimes they talk about the "I miss you thing" on the phone or over Skype when they're both at their respective schools. But they'd agreed that they should keep it to a minimum, so they could just enjoy the moments they _do_have together without too many feelings of longing or regret.

A few minutes later, she blinks her eyes open and presses a few light kisses to his chest. "Good morning," she mumbles sleepily.

He fixes her with that half-smile and figures if he has to be awake at eight o'clock, it's okay as long as Rachel is awake too. "Mornin' babe."

"How'd you sleep?"

He buries his face in her hair and groans. "Fine until the stupid sun came up."

She rolls her eyes playfully. "Oh, heaven forbid you be awake at a reasonable hour!" Her fingers trace circles on the back of his neck.

"Exactly! You know me so well." He kisses the top of her head as he sits up. "Can I just stay here forever?" he asks. He has to drive back later tonight and he's not looking forward to it at all.

She sits up too, leaning against his shoulder. "Here in this apartment or here in my bed?"

He grins. "Both."

She smiles back, humoring him a little. "As much as I would love both of those scenarios, you need to get your degree first. And then, you can move here like we've been talking about and I'll gladly let you stay in my bed forever. Actually," she adds after a moment, "I don't think I'll allow you to leave."

"That's what I like to hear." He peppers kisses across her shoulder, smiling.

"Of course it is. Food and sex are the first two things on your mind seventy percent of the day."

"Speaking of food…" His stomach rumbles, as if on cue.

She laughs and tugs at his hand, wrapping a blanket around her as she walks into the kitchen. He really likes that she's become confident enough in herself to walk around pretty much naked, except for a blanket, and cook breakfast (when her roommate isn't around, that is, but it had just worked out that she'd gone home for the weekend). As for him, he doesn't even bother with any sort of clothing, but he figures it doesn't matter. And he likes the freedom anyway. Plus, he's pretty sure after breakfast is done, clothes are gonna be unnecessary anyway. He smirks to himself.

She brings him a plate of waffles and he really needs to thank his mom for getting her a waffle iron that one year for…something or other. He eyes them appreciatively, the same way he eyes her ass appreciatively when she walks back to the counter to get her own plate, before reaching for the syrup.

He eats them pretty quickly, which both of them find unsurprising. But he can't help it. Morning and sex dreams make him hungry and they're just so…_good._He hasn't had real waffles in forever. Because even though he's living in his own apartment with a couple of his frat brothers, it's not like any of them can really cook. Or, like, understand how to use a waffle iron. And it's not like the food on campus is all that impressive.

So yeah, no one can blame him. He looks out the window again and then looks at his girlfriend.

"Do you think it's gonna rain again later?" he asks.

"I'm not really sure. I checked the weather forecast and it said it would be clear. But of course it said that _yesterday_ too and we both know how _that_ turned out." She rolls her eyes, 'cause he knows she doesn't like rain as much as he does, but he also knows she's just doing it for form too. It's not like they had a _bad_night last night after they'd left the park and the rain.

He shrugs. "Thanks for the waffles," he says instead, licking his lips. "They were super delicious." He pauses. "I wish you could include waffles in the care packages you send me."

Usually she sends him sweaters and sugar cookies and all sorts of knick knacks and things she finds from street vendors. She sent him a framed picture of Clapton in concert once and he still thinks it's one of the coolest things he owns.

She grins a little, but her eyes mist over. "Would that make you happy?" she asks quietly.

Oh man. He'd totally thought he'd taken care of this. He wonders what he's done wrong that she doesn't believe him.

He sighs a little. "Rachel?"

"Yes?"

"You remember when we went to see Spring Awakening that one time?"

"I do."

"And you know how that one character who wants to be a sheep herder or something says to the guy who thinks he's a cat that he's never loved anyone else like he loves him?"

She bites her lip a little, nodding.

"It's like that for me," he goes on. "I've never loved anyone like I love you. And I never will. And yeah, I don't think I'm a cat and you're like allergic to sheep or something, but still. I _love_ you, Rachel. And like I said, that makes me happier than anything. I mean, yeah, it'd be really awesome if you could send me waffles in the mail, but it's not like it makes me unhappy that it can't happen." He takes her hand with one of his own, his other reaching up to tilt her chin up, her face close against his. He whispers, "The only thing that makes me happy is not being with you—like, _with_you with you, I mean. Like, not in a relationship. That and seeing you sad. Why are you sad, Rach?"

This time she really does smile and her eyes are a little watery and she almost knocks the bottle of syrup over in her haste to wrap her arms around his neck. "I love you, too," she murmurs into his neck.

She leans back and searches her eyes with hers. "I guess I just worry sometimes. The reason my roommate went home this weekend was because she wanted to salvage her relationship. Apparently, her boyfriend wasn't really happy in their relationship. He wasn't mean or completely unsatisfied, but she'd noticed that even when he was content or was having a happy day, he was never really completely happy. I just didn't want that to happen to or for you," she admits softly.

"Rachel," he says again. "I understand your concerns, I really do, babe. But trust me when I say you have nothing to worry about, mmkay? I'm _happy._And I'm happy we get to spend this time together. I don't want you to think otherwise."

"Okay." But this time it sounds more genuine and it makes him smile. He gets it; gets _her._Really, he does. He knows how other peoples' relationships, and seeing them and being around them, can influence your thoughts about your own relationship, but he hopes she learns to stop worrying, at least about his happiness. 'Cause sure, when his buddy John and his girlfriend broke up, he'd done something about himself and Rachel, but he'd just come to the conclusion that he loved her and she loved him and that was all that mattered. And he'd been right.

So when she finally realizes that she never has to question his happiness (and he really hopes she gets it now) he knows she'll come to the same conclusion and all will be well with her again and stuff. Mostly, he hopes those insecurities go away completely someday.

"Soo…" he starts. She looks at him. "How do you feel about making more waffles?"

She laughs and he loves the sound of it.

* * *

><p>"Ugh," he complains as he leans against his truck, stealing another kiss from her. "I don't wanna go back."<p>

She strokes a hand through his hair as she pulls him down again. It's good to know that she's as attracted to him as he is to her. "I know, but we'll see each other again soon, I promise! I mean, there's always Easter."

He bites back a groan; that's still like another month. He doesn't say anything though, remembering the whole "no regrets" thing, but still, sometimes it's hard.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Are you coming home that weekend or what?"

"That's the plan," she affirms. "But plans can change, depending on what you want to do." She trails her fingers up his arm.

He shudders a little, a trillion awesome ideas already running through his head. He'll definitely get back to her on that.

He asks if she had fun this weekend and she nods up at him, her eyes bright, and he grins down at her. Maybe his plan and stuff worked out after all; that would be super, actually.

"I love you," he tells her as he opens the driver's side door.

"I love you too." She kisses him quickly once more and then starts to ask, "Finn, are you—"

He sighs listlessly as he interrupts her. "_Yes,_" he says. "I'm happy, Rachel." He tries not to sound exasperated.

But to his surprise (and relief) she just laughs a little, shaking her head. "I know." She gives him that million mega-watt smile. "I know, Finn. I know you are." She squeezes his hand lightly. "I was going to ask if you're going to call me when you get back so I know you're safe."

"Oh." He grins. "'Course, babe. I wouldn't dream of not." She might actually castrate him if he doesn't, he thinks. And he really, really likes those parts of himself.

He climbs into his truck after she slaps at his shoulder playfully, telling him he'd better get on the road then, before it gets too dark. It amuses him a little that she still worries about his driving even though he's improved significantly since high school.

"Finn?" he hears just before he starts the engine.

"Yeah?"

She licks at her lip, her mouth twitching adorable. "I'm glad you're happy," she says.

He smiles back, and he knows it's that dopey smile that's reserved only for her, but he doesn't care because she's right.

He _is_ happy. And it's pretty much the best thing ever.

* * *

><p><em>for my friend Amy who insists that my drabbles I post on tumblr (which is youthinkishouldbringagun btw :P ) are too angst-ridden. and also for everyone who's ever supported me. thank you so much. ^^<em>

reviews = love :)


End file.
